I just felt an earthquake. A small one, but enough to make our building wave and wiggle.
Growing up in Washington State, earthquake drills were a regular part of life. Several times a year in elementary school, we’d have to get under our desks, cover the back of our neck with our hands, and wait for a teacher to tell us to move. Then we’d file outside and be counted. At the time, I had never experienced an earthquake, and I remember wondering what one would actually feel like. It seemed equal parts exciting and terrifying to know that something powerful could suddenly shift under my feet and cause my world to thrash and sway.
I don’t remember drills in middle or high school, but I do remember the Nisqually Earthquake on Feb. 28, 2001. I was a junior, and true to my nerd bona fides, I was at a lunch meeting of the Junior Classical League (Latin language society) when the earthquake struck. I tucked myself under a desk, and what I remember most is how the brick building continued to sway long after the shaking had stopped. The shaking was shocking, but the slow waving of the building for at least 30 seconds afterward was truly frightening, especially since I was on the second floor. The Nisqually Earthquake measured 6.8 on the Richter Scale, and its epicenter was 11 miles north of Olympia, 90 miles away. I experienced other earthquakes growing up, but none as large or as memorable as this one.
That youthful earthquake awareness shows up from time to time. An elevator rattling a given floor of a skyscraper, or a bridge bouncing under the weight of a truck is enough to make me wonder if an earthquake is upon us. So far I’ve been fortunate, but the question is never far from my mind. Helpfully, and often whenever I’m on a bridge, my mind asks “What would you do if an earthquake happened…right…NOW?”
I was in Virginia on August 23, 2011 when a 5.8 magnitude earthquake rattled the greater DC area, and was supposedly felt by 1/3 of the US population, from Maine to Florida. When the shaking started, I was in a classroom attending a training with about 20 other people. I got up and stood in a doorway, but everyone else was frozen. “It’s an earthquake,” I said, “get under the tables.” One woman moved. I learned later that she’d gone to graduate school in Eugene, OR and had been through at least one earthquake before. Afterward, people noted how shocked they’d been by the shaking, and how their shock had paralyzed them. Perhaps that’s the ultimate value of childhood earthquake drills – they had implanted themselves into my subconscious sufficient to trigger automatic action decades later.
Our building in Japan is small – six apartments total, on two floors – and shakes frequently. I’m not sure how much of the shaking is due to earthquakes, or perhaps large trucks or trains, since there is a train station almost next door. It can’t be an HVAC system, because the building doesn’t have one. The mystery continues, but Foster and I feel what we agree must be an earthquake about once every two weeks. Many are small, but the one that happened just now was a 5.3 according to the Japan Meteorological Agency – a respectable size, for sure.
Japanese myths talk about Namazu, a giant fish whose wiggling tail is the cause of earthquakes. Having been subdued by the god Kashima (who is also associated with thunder and swords), Namazu is pinned against the earth by a giant stone. No one’s perfect, and earthquakes happen when Kashima gets tired or distracted, allowing Namazu a chance to squirm and causing earthquakes in the human world. A quick internet search will yield examples of Namazu-e woodblock prints, showing Namazu as a giant catfish. They’re worth checking out.
I think of Namazu when I see carp in the neighboring Tagoegawa River, trying to heave their fat bodies over rocks when the water levels are low. I’ve seen seniors throwing stale bread to the fish, who are sufficiently habituated that the mere presence of a human is enough to make them swarm, hoping for food. Foster, who loves to fly fish, goes out in the mornings to drink his coffee and stare at the carp, like a cat watching a goldfish in a bowl. It’s impossible to have a thoughtful conversation with him while we walk along the river – the fish distract him too easily.
Earthquakes tend to put me on my toes, or more appropriately my nerve endings. The question is always “Is this it, or is this just a prelude?” We’ve been awoken by screaming alarms on our cell phones at least once so far, giving us a few seconds’ warning before shaking starts. We put together a “go bag” and made it a point during our first few weeks here to identify the quickest path to a hilltop, so that we can make a quick exit in the event of a major quake.
There’s much more to say about earthquakes. I’m thankful that today’s was off the coast and not disruptive.
Good stuff to read
“The Really Big One,” Kathryn Schulz, The New Yorker (July 13, 2015)
Mostly City Stuff 